The Whole World for Each

2. Something at First Sight

2

Something at First Sight

April wanted to gawk—oh, how she wanted to gawk. But you can’t be awe-inspiring when you’re within the raptures of awe yourself, especially if what’s so striking to you is just mundane to everyone around you.

She and her mother had met Ted Vasquez before even leaving the shuttle docking bay and had followed him down maintenance hallways and service elevators and narrow, utilitarian stairs so steep they were nearly ladders until they reached the water treatment area where he lived. Now that the job was done, she was getting her first look at the station itself, and what a sight it was.

April had never been on a station like the Triomphe. Not even close. Much of it was familiar: it was just as crowded with people as any place she’d ever been, and the marketplace was filled with the same sorts of smells: mouth-watering food aromas mingling uneasily with the foul odors of inadequate sanitation, both overwhelmed by the personal scents of thousands of people brushing past each other as they bustled through the marketplace. Just another space station designed for industrial or manufacturing work with living areas for all its employees, now made over for the use of far too many refugees from disease-plagued Earth: inner walls torn down to make larger spaces, larger spaces broken up by makeshift walls to make smaller spaces, and shipping containers stacked to make homes for family on top of family.

No, what was different on the Triomphe was that everything she was used to just kept going and going. The rotating wheel that simulated gravity would take hours to walk around; the rows of structures off the main walkway extended farther than she could see in each direction, obscuring her view of the station hull until it curved overhead—so far overhead it was dizzying—and the makeshift buildings reached all the way up to it.

She wanted to tip her head back and get a good long look at all the people above her, the lines of laundry crisscrossing the open spaces, people sitting on rickety porches and balconies to watch the crowds as they did small chores. She was afraid it would give her vertigo, looking straight up through layers of people. Mostly she was afraid her mother would catch her at it; under all the veils, no one could see where she was looking unless it was up, when her jutting chin gave her away.

She wondered if the buildings ever came tumbling down. There were no earthquakes in space, of course, but it didn’t look like it would take much of a jolt to knock down one of the spindly supports. And so many of the buildings were buttressed against their neighboring structures that if it happened, it wouldn’t take much more to bring entire blocks down.

“Stay light, April. Potential clients are all around us,” her mother whispered, her bright smile never dimming despite the annoyance in her words. April swallowed hard and pushed the images out of her mind, concentrating on her walk as she followed her mother through the marketplace. She was supposed to be taking small, gliding steps to make it look like she was floating under all the veils, but her legs, unused to carrying her own body weight, didn’t want to do it.

The big-eyed girl gave her hand an encouraging squeeze and April took strength from it, enough to keep walking. The people living on the platform had little in the way of money but apparently were rich in favors. The girl’s parents had a relative who ran a bedsit and had sent their twelve-year-old son to lead them there and see them settled for the night. April wasn’t sure anyone else had noticed the girl slip away with them. Her brother was walking beside April’s mother, telling a jumble of tales about other hauntings on the Triomphe. Melena would never do anything so overt as to take notes, but April was certain she would remember them all and look into each on her own later. If half of what the boy was relating turned out to be true, they would be busy here for weeks.

April felt her heart sink and gritted her teeth in annoyance. She had never seen a ghost in her life—did she really think it would be different this time? That somehow not trying to see a ghost for four years would have changed everything and suddenly they’d be there when she looked? Everyone else had seen them, just not her. Same as always. She hadn’t realized how much she had been hoping that things had changed until the moment she had turned and seen nothing. Now she felt more of a fraud than ever, and yet she had already agreed that this was what they had to do, at least until they had enough set away to find other work. She had promised her mother that she could do this, that she wouldn’t throw the tantrums of her younger self.

She had promised. She might not be someone who could see ghosts, but she was someone who kept a promise. April tried to pull herself up straighter, to walk a little more glidingly, to look like someone who commanded ghosts and who ghosts obeyed. The growling of her stomach helped; it was a nice reminder of why she was doing all this.

“Let’s stop here for a moment,” Melena said, pointing to a fountain: a series of progressively smaller bowls topped by an elaborate lotus, all dry. There was a bench situated for optimal viewing of what would probably be a lovely sight if the water was running and Melena settled onto it, April perching beside her, careful to still look otherworldly even while she rested her all-too-worldly body.

She must have been doing something right, she considered, as they had attracted a sizable retinue of children as they walked through the marketplace. They hovered a short distance away, and the two children from the platform puffed up importantly at all the attention.

“Hello, little ones,” her mother said, always on the job. “Do you know who this is?”

Most of the children just stared back at her, but the bravest, a girl with fine blonde hair gathered into two thin braids, lifted her chin as she answered, “No.”

“This is April Nguyen, Mistress of Spirits, Quieter of Hauntings, Cleanser of Sorrowful Places.”

“That’s a long name,” the girl said.

“Have you ever heard of her?” her mother went on.

“No,” the girl said, giving a sideways glance at April. “I can’t even see her. Is she pretty?”

“She’s more than pretty,” her mother said. “She can command ghosts.”

“To do what?”

“Anything. But the most important thing she does is help them move on. Have you ever seen a ghost?”

The girl shook her head, and a second later her companions did likewise.

“Ghosts are very sad. But most of us can’t figure out why. April can, and once she knows why the ghosts are sad, she can help them leave. Ghosts don’t want to be here, you know. They just get stuck and need a little bit of help.”

“Ghosts are scary,” one of the boys said, his voice no more than a whisper.

“Some are,” April’s mother agreed. “But they don’t mean to be. They’re lost, and being lost makes them sad and sometimes angry.”

“How can she talk to ghosts?” the girl asked.

“It’s a gift she was born with. She’s always been special.”

The girl turned to scrutinize April more directly, unconvinced. “Why is she hiding then?”

“Like ghosts, she prefers quiet places: not so bright, not so loud. Without her veils, this place would overwhelm her.”

The girl’s mouth twisted and April knew, without her saying a word, just what she thought of someone so delicate. April kept her eyes up, doing her best to ignore the girl, resisting the temptation to explain that of course it was all part of the act. April wasn’t nearly so helpless as all that.

“So tell me, children,” her mother went on. “There must be ghosts here. Every station has its ghosts. Tell me the stories.”

The children looked at each other.

“The bridge,” one kid said. “My da said the bridge is haunted. The captain in charge of the station and the whole bridge crew died there and they haunt it because—”

“That’s just a story,” the girl interrupted with a wave of her hand. “They don’t want kids up there so they made up a story.”

“And you’re clever enough to figure that out?” April’s mother said.

“I think they’re all stories,” the girl said. “To keep us out of places or to scare us into behaving. I don’t think any of it is true.”

“I’ve seen ghosts,” the girl from the platform said softly. “They were my friends, but then they were ghosts.”

“April made them go away,” her brother added. “Now they won’t make their ma so sad anymore.”

“That’s right,” Melena said, and April tried not to sigh aloud. If only she felt so sure. Why was she still doing this?

She felt it before she properly saw it: a boy about her age staring daggers at her that struck her like his gaze really could stab into her flesh. He stood at the edge of the fountain square outside one of the shops, but what should have been plenty of distance seemed like nothing as he towered over the people bustling between them; no one else was tall enough to get between his eyes and her. And while the girl before her was staring at her suspiciously, he was doing it with deepest hate. April felt certain if she ripped off her veils she would be able to see the flames burning in those dark eyes. As it was, she felt their heat and gasped softly, her posture finally starting to crumple. Her mother caught her elbow and the children rushed forward but then stopped, as if wanting to help but still not willing to touch her.

“I’m all right,” April said and willed herself to sit up straight again.

“Maybe we should go on now, get settled in our room,” her mother said. “Then rest.”

“Yes, let’s,” April said, getting to her feet. Her knees were shaking, but she took a deep breath and focused until they stopped.

Then, although she really didn’t want to, she couldn’t help seeking out the boy again. Perhaps she had imagined him. Or perhaps he hadn’t been looking at her at all. Such blatant hate ... he had to have been looking at someone he already knew, not someone he had never met before in his life. And she knew she’d remember him if they had met. Tall, lanky, untidy Afro, dark brown skin and nearly black eyes; he would have been memorable even in passing.

He was still there, still glaring at her. Definitely at her. Her breath caught again. It was like the veils weren’t even there, like he really could see her. He saw every bit of her, body and soul, and his hatred was all the deeper for it.

The girl took her hand once more and April let herself be led away from the fountain and that glaring boy. Normally April loved marketplaces; even veiled she could smell tempting foods, catch glimpses of all the goods for sale. It had been years since she had visited one, and never one close to this size. And yet today it just felt too overwhelming. She needed calm and quiet. She needed to lie down and sleep for a thousand days.

From the central mall, it looked like everything inside the station was jury-rigged from shipping containers and scraps of whatever had been available, but April watched as the boy ducked down a side street that dead-ended at the bottom of a stairway that was clearly original construction. There were two flights of stairs moving first away and then towards each other in an endless zigzag.

“How far up?” Melena asked as the boy started up the steps.

“Seven floors,” he said.

April’s knees quaked just at the idea.

“Is there an elevator?” her mother asked.

“Yeah, but the gangs control those. They charge, and with how you two are dressed they’ll charge you more.”

Her mother took April’s elbow and spoke close to her ear. “Can you do it?”

“I’m more worried about you,” April said.

“Tomorrow will be easier,” her mother said, giving her elbow a squeeze.

April wished they could at least eat something first, but she supposed it would be rude to eat in front of the children without sharing, and what little the Vasquezes’ neighbors had given them was scarcely enough for two.

She draped the edges of her veils over one hand, gripping the staircase rail with the other, and focused on putting one aching foot in front of the other. Her mother set a slow pace, so slow the boy was several flights above them before he realized he was alone.

“What’s taking you?” he called back down.

“Apologies, young one,” her mother called back breathlessly. “We’ve been in free fall for some time.”

The boy ran back down to stand at the top of the flight of stairs they were currently ascending. “Free fall?” he repeated. “I’ve never been in free fall. Is it fun?”

“Free fall is fun,” Melena said as she reached his side. “Coming out of free fall, not so much. Your muscles get weak.”

April just kept her attention focused on moving one foot in front of the other and not tripping over her veils. The girl beside her kept a hand on her arm as if ready to catch her if she stumbled.

The boy ran ahead again to get their room arranged. By the time they reached the last flight before the seventh floor, Melena’s pace had slowed so that she was walking beside April, the girl between holding an arm of each of them. When at last the stairs ended, April bent with hands on her knees and fought back waves of dizziness. The lack of food was catching up with her too.

She lifted her head, forcing her eyes to open and look around. They were on a landing that, like the staircase, was part of the original station. On one side she had an impressive view of the makeshift marketplace and city with its tottering buildings, on the other a series of glass-fronted shops. So even in the original structure this part of the station had been a shopping area.

Melena touched her arm and she straightened, settling her veils with a twitch of her hand. They walked through the open glass doors into a sitting room with chairs and little tables and carefully angled lights, perfect for curling up and reading and occasionally looking out the windows at the crowds passing by. On the far end of the room was a hallway, but between them and the hallway was a long, tall desk, and behind the desk was a woman who looked none too pleased to see them.

“Here they are,” the boy said, and the woman scowled. But as they drew limpingly nearer, her frown softened into a look of grudging concern.

“We just need to rest,” Melena said. “We are most grateful for your hospitality. And I know it was promised as a favor, but in a few days we will have something we can pay you with, you have my word.”

“I can spare a room,” the woman said. “It’s not much.”

“We don’t need much,” Melena said. “Just a place to lie down.”

The woman nodded and poked around behind her desk before emerging with an old, battered tablet. “This way.”

“We should be getting back home,” the boy said as Melena and April moved to follow the proprietor.

“Of course. Thank you for showing us the way. And thank your family and your neighbors for their gifts. We shall be putting them to good use.”

April looked down at the girl who was once more clasping her hand. She dropped down to one protesting knee, unthreaded one of the bells from her long braid, and looped it through the tie in one of the girl’s pigtails. The girl broke out into a wide smile, the first April had seen from her, made all the more special for the gaps where she was waiting for adult teeth to come in. Then she took her brother’s hand and went out the door, walking with a skip to make the little bell tinkle.

“This way,” the woman said again, and they followed her down the long hallway to where it ended in a T and down the right-hand corridor to the very end.

“I’m particular about my guests; there are only good people here,” she said as her fingers flew over the tablet. “Even so, the doors are programmed to remain locked. The passcode changes between guests. Yours is 3829,” she said, tapping the code into the number pad as she read it out to them. The light went from orange to green and the door popped open with a click. “You’ll need the same code to get out again so don’t forget it.”

“3829,” Melena said. “Thank you.”

The woman nodded, then turned and marched back to her desk.

April stepped into the room as the overhead light flickered to life. The room was longer than it was wide, with two narrow beds taking up so much of the space there wasn’t room to walk between them. April clambered over the overly elaborate footboard and spilled onto the lumpy mattress with a contented sigh. She nearly gave in to the desire to drift off to sleep but fought it back and sat up, stripping off the layers of veils and kicking off her shoes. Melena stepped more gracefully over her own footboard, settling cross-legged on her bed facing April. She held the mesh bag with the gifts.

“Is there anything left like a tablecloth?” she asked, switching to French now that the two of them were alone. April sat up again, digging into the carpetbag. There wasn’t much in there besides her reader and her mother’s treasured doll, just a change of clothes for each of them.

“No,” she said.

“Mind the crumbs, then,” her mother said and started removing items from the mesh bag. A box of slightly mushy crackers (living inside the water treatment system must wreak havoc on food storage), a tube of fish paste, and another of some sort of nut butter. A packet of something that wasn’t truly dried fruit but was a remarkable teeth-sticking simulation. There wasn’t much, not really even enough for two, but after days of nothing it was like a feast.

“It won’t take long to get back on our feet,” Melena said as she gathered up the empty packets. “Your reputation is already spreading, and even though it’s been a few years, people will remember you from before.”

“They’ll be expecting a precocious little child,” April said. “Remember, things were already changing before I quit. After my growth spurt I wasn’t what they were expecting anymore.”

“That’s how this little break helps us,” Melena insisted. “You’re reinventing yourself.”

April sighed.

“April, we really only have two choices. You do this, or I find another man and hope he doesn’t dump us out of his ship at the far end of everything, like the last one. There is nothing else.”

April nodded mutely. The last man had seemed nice enough, and he certainly had been rich enough. It had been good at first, when Melena had still been in her up phase. But then her personal darkness had cloaked itself around her once more and she refused to get out of bed, not even to eat. Wearing the same clothes for days on end, her long hair grew matted with neglect and her unwashed body took on a sour smell. Then the quiet crying over nothing apparent would become sobs and finally she would just talk with herself in words barely coherent. Even the nicest of men bailed at that point. This last fellow had been captain of a long-haul freighter. He couldn’t just leave them, so instead he dropped them off on a tiny asteroid mining colony, a thirteen-year-old girl and her nonfunctioning mother alone among miners who had no time for them.

“April?”

“Did you see them?” April asked, fidgeting with the fraying hem of her kameez.

“See who?”

“You know. The girls. Did you really see them? Or were you pretending because the others said they saw them?”

“Honestly, April. This conversation again?”

“It just seems like I should see them too, doesn’t it? I don’t understand what’s wrong with me.”

“You doubt yourself too much,” Melena said, brushing stray hairs back from April’s forehead. “You need to let go of those doubts, to trust in yourself and your beautiful gift. I think when you stop letting this bother you, when you let go of your doubts and fears, then you will see what we all see.”

“But what if I don’t? What if I never do? I feel like a fraud, like I’m tricking people.”

Melena’s cheeks reddened and her voice hardened, as they did every time April mentioned the word. “You are not a fraud. What difference does it make if you can’t see these ghosts? Lots of people can see ghosts, it’s nothing special. But you are the one who can send them on, who can give their families peace and a sense of closure. You may be blind to the other world, but you can touch it all the same. You saw the mother, how changed she was by what you did.”

“Yes, I did,” April said.

“Then that’s all you need to see.” She looked around and found the control for the light, then gave April a questioning look. April nodded and she clicked off the lights.

“But it doesn’t make sense that I can’t see the ghosts too,” April said to herself as she peeled back the covers and climbed into the bed. “I believe just as much as anybody. I want to see, with all my heart. Why can’t I?” She curled up under the covers, hands tucked under her pillow.

The memory of those eyes glaring at her in hatred kept sleep at bay for far too long.